


Your Body Is My Temple (Come, Let Us Worship)

by KatieHavok



Series: Breeding Lilacs [28]
Category: Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them (Movies)
Genre: 5+1 Things, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angst and Fluff and Smut, Backrubs, Bathing/Washing, Blizzards & Snowstorms, Blow Jobs, Comfort, Comfort Sex, Cuddling & Snuggling, Enemies to Friends to Lovers, Explicit Language, F/M, First Kiss, Fluff and Humor, Frottage, Grinding, Hand Jobs, Healing, Hot, Imprisonment, Massage, Menstruation, Mentions of Menstruation, Military Uniforms, Nightmares, Oral Sex, Past Abuse, Post-Movie 1: Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Potions, Sex on Furniture, Sharing, Sharing Body Heat, Vaginal Fingering, Vaginal Sex, Woman on Top
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-19
Updated: 2017-08-19
Packaged: 2018-12-17 07:34:34
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 17,143
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11846913
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/KatieHavok/pseuds/KatieHavok
Summary: Five times Newt took care of Tina, and one time she took care of him.





	1. Comfort

**Author's Note:**

> These stories are all loosely connected and have a vaguely linear timeline. They do take place in the same universe, though whether it's canon or in one of my (many) other universes is up to you.

*

Tina’s eyes are gritty with exhaustion and tears, but she refuses to indulge in the luxury of crying.

Mr. Kowalski avoids her scrutiny when he crosses his arms over his chest, absorbing the information that’s just been dumped on them. She envies him, in a way—he has no _comprehension_ of just how bad the situation is for him, and though she could dispel the notion, some dim vestige of sympathy prevents her from doing so.

Her compassion isn’t just for him, though. He’s a No-Maj, all but anathema to her _despite_ what her sister seemed to think; she has to keep him in his convenient mental box lest she gives in to despair.

No.

Her primary concern crouches across from her, the blue of his great coat seeming to lose vibrancy as he alternates between staring into the middle distance and rubbing his leaking eyes. Mr. Scamander does not sniffle, and he does not apologize for his tears. He seems simultaneously breathless and ancient, carved from obdurate stone as he slumps in his chosen corner, radiating dejection.

Tina is opening her mouth to apologize again—though he still hasn’t acknowledged her first attempt—when Mr. Kowalski voices the question they’re all thinking.

“So, what happens now?”

She opens her mouth to answer, only to discover that she can’t find the words. Across from her, Mr. Scamander shifts uncomfortably, fingers knotting disconsolately before him when he hesitantly meets her eyes. He raises his eyebrows in question, jaw clenching rhythmically, and Tina has her answer.

“We’re going to be stuck in here for the night,” she says. “With the International Confederation here, they’ll take priority.” She exhales slowly, watching Newt digest this information before dampening his lips. He opens his mouth as if to speak and she rushes to talk over him, desperate to say her piece.

“We’ll be interrogated in the morning. Well, Mr. Scamander and I will be interrogated.” She cuts her eyes over to Jacob, who meets them evenly. “You, they’re just going to Obliviate.”

Tina winces at her own tactless delivery before plowing on. “I’m sorry, it’s nothing personal, it’s just...”

Newt makes a rude _tch!_ sound and meets her eyes when she turns back to him. “And my case?” he asks in a low, broken voice. “What’s going to happen to my...my creatures?” His eyes swim but he doesn’t look away. Tina finds that as much as she’d like to lie to him, she is unable to do so.

“I can’t say for sure,” she admits in a low voice, “but they’re likely going to inspect it, gather any evidence they need, and then…” She trails off to watch his eyes widen in understanding until his face crumples, tears flowing anew.

_“Frank,”_ he moans while burying his head in his hands. Newt goes on to hitch out a few more names before scrubbing his eyes, making a visible effort to gather himself. Across the way, Tina feels Mr. Kowalski’s glare on her before turning to Newt, his expression and tone soft and conciliatory.

“Hey, pal,” he tries desperately, “it ain’t...it ain’t _all_ bad. I mean, this is America, right? Land of the Free?” He flashes a thin, desperate smile from beneath his neat mustache. “There’s gonna be a trial, and as soon as they see that you didn’t mean any harm, they’re gonna let you and your case go.” He looks at Tina imploringly, his eyes hard. “Right?”

Tina crosses her arms over her chest as goosebumps dot her skin, a combination of stress, nerves, and the persistent, damp chill of the stone cells.

“Right,” she echoed dully, unsurprised to find that she doesn’t even believe it _herself_.

*

Newt unfolds from his corner sometime after Tina and Jacob have fallen into tense silence.

He stands to cross the cell on shaky legs, dropping to his knees in front of the tap and grate. Tina watches him drink deeply before shedding his great coat and pushing up his sleeves. He scrubs his face, washing away the salt of his tears before drying it with a wrinkled handkerchief.

“We should sleep. Make sure we have enough strength for tomorrow,” Newt says in a hoarse voice, turning toward them.

Jacob gives him a long, considering look before sighing heavily and leveraging his considerable bulk off the cot.

“You’re right,” he says, and glances at Tina. “Let’s let her have the bed, yeah, Newt? I’m still used to sleeping in mud, a stone floor ain’t gonna bother me.”

Newt eyes him narrowly before offering his blue jacket. “Someone should stay up in case a guard comes along,” he agrees. “You may use my coat as a blanket if you’d like, Jacob. I’m fine without it.”

Jacob reaches out to take it. “You sure?” After the man in question nods, Jacob inclines his head in thanks before trundling into the corner with the least amount of draft.

He’s just folded his suit coat into a rudimentary pillow when Newt starts and ambles over to him.

“Jacob—”

The shorter man passes over the blue jacket with a faint smirk, bending to remove his shoes and inspect his feet while Newt quickly rummages through its pockets. Bading them good night, Jacob settles onto the floor, exhaling gustily when Newt drapes his coat over him and squirming to get comfortable before closing his eyes.

The soft cadence of his snores drifts to them moments later. Tina stares, faintly jealous, before turning to Newt.

He sets down the items—she recognizes a tin of cookies, a battered leather pouch, and a well-traveled alarm clock—before turning to speak to her shoes.

“You’ll have the cot,” he murmurs. Newt looks beyond her, eyes hard in his otherwise blank face, before glancing somewhere in the vicinity of her chin while passing the leather bag. “I’ll allow you your privacy to clean up.”

Tina watches him cross the room to put his back to her, the line of his spine rigid, arms folded tensely over his chest. Curiosity getting the better of her, she crosses over to the watershed, frowning thunderously until his cryptic statement about _privacy_ catches up to her.

The tap, she knows, is connected to the Woolworth building’s plumbing, so they don’t need to worry about running out of water. There’s no toilet, however, and no sink or mirror. Instead, there’s a simple bucket, the purpose of which she quickly discerns, and _nothing_ to hide behind when she performs her necessary business.

Blood slams into her face, heating it against the chill, and she glances over her shoulder on instinct. Newt is still standing away from her, though now he grips the cell bars with white knuckles, his shoulders almost screaming with tension.

Tina swallows, momentarily frozen with indecision before digging deep for her Brooklyn-bred forbearance and trotting over to the cot.

“I’ll just be another moment, Mr. Scamander,” she assures him as she opens the leather pouch.

Unsurprisingly, reaching inside sinks her arm to the shoulder, and she riffles around the space to pull out nothing less than a small basin, a toothbrush, a tin of tooth powder, a cake of shaving foam, a badger brush, a straight-razor with an edge that’s been honed to lethal sharpness, and a bar of sweet-smelling soap. Much of it is useless to her, so she puts everything except the basin and soap back into the pouch before lugging it all over to the tap.

Tina uses the empty chamber pot for its intended purpose, ducking behind the stone foundation of the cot for privacy, teeth grit to deny the blush ravaging her face the entire time. She fastens her slacks and watches anxiously to make sure the mess disappears—it does—before scrubbing her face and hands with his soap. She’s unusually brisk in her ablutions, eyes pinched shut against tears she tells herself are from getting suds in her eye before slicking her hair back from her temples.

She dries her skin with her handkerchief and drains the gray water out of the basin before calling to him. “I’m done, Mr. Scamander.” She keeps her voice pitched low and even, watching him carefully when he turns to her with a sigh.

“All right, then?” She nods as he crosses the space between them. He hovers for a moment, eyes bouncing between her hands and the empty bucket behind them until she catches on. Blushing, she takes a big step back, nearly stumbling in the process.

“I’ll...go,” Tina blusters with a vague wave of her hand. “To give you—privacy. So you can, um. Clean up, too.”

“I’d appreciate that,” he says quickly, and drops his eyes. There’s an awkward moment when they nearly collide while heading in opposite directions until Tina steps aside to allow Newt to duck around her. She takes up his vacated spot by the cell bars to ignore him as he performs his evening toilet.

Newt indicates that he’s finished a few minutes later. She turns to find that he looks precisely the same, save for the darker hair at his temples from washing up. He avoids her eyes while admonishing her, again, to get some rest. Tina’s hands curl into helpless fists when the strain proves to be too much and she wearily slumps.

“I’m sorry,” she repeats, speaking to his boots. “I know you’re angry with me, and I know I deserve it, but it’s true. I never intended for _any_ of this to happen, Mr. Scamander.”

She watches tension creep back into his frame, but he doesn’t move to accept her apology. Instead, he reiterates that she should rest before putting his back to her, once more taking up a watchful position by the bars.

Tina sighs wearily while climbing into the cot. Newt stands as still as a statue, jaw tense and lips a bloodless gash above what little of his chin she can see.

She does her best to ignore him as her eyes drift out of focus, the combined weight of the day slowly pressing down on her.

She fails.

*

She must have fallen asleep because she opens her eyes sometime later to find that Newt has moved.

No longer does he stand sentry by the bars; instead, he’s seated in the corner he’d staked out earlier, long arms wrapped around his knees with his head tipped against the wall, eyes closed. A quick check of the opposite corner reveals that Mr. Kowalski is still snoring blissfully away.

Tina smothers a sigh while carefully rolling over.

“It’s only been an hour.” His voice drifts over to her cautiously, almost begrudgingly. She stares wordlessly at the ceiling until the unmistakable metallic _snick!_ of a pocket-watch being flipped closed reaches her ears.

Tina glances over just in time to see him stash it away before shifting, grimacing as he repositions his skinny shanks against the stone.

Much of the defensiveness and tension has bled out of his posture, replaced with a heavy mantle of fatigue that sits strangely on him; it ages him beyond his years and dims the lively spark in his eye. Tina stares as the renewed understanding that _she_ put that look there fills her with remorse.

The sudden, inexplicable need to make things right, or as right as they can be, takes her breath away, and she doesn’t question the impulse when she sits up and forces a neutral expression.

“Aren’t you cold?” she asks softly. She shrugs off the thin blanket, stoically ignoring the chill creeping over her neck and shoulders while holding it out as a peace offering. “I’m sure the floor must be freezing. You can have the blanket, I really don’t mind.”

Newt looks somewhere in the vicinity of her feet. Tina watches his jaw clench before shaking his head. “I have endured far colder temperatures, and in more dire circumstances, Miss Goldstein.” He curls into himself in direct negation of his words, wrapping thin fingers around his elbows while defiantly meeting her eyes. “I’ll be all right.”

Tina sucks her teeth in disbelief of his sheer _stubbornness_. “Let me know when you’ve frozen to the floor,” she says caustically, “and maybe I’ll come help you up.”

He looks away, his thin face flaming, and Tina, feeling suddenly barbaric, rolls over. _I’m not apologizing again_ , she tells herself.

But she can’t help thinking it, over and over, and the refrain follows her once more into a thin, gray sleep.

*

Tina wakes for the second time that endless night because of a small, well-smothered but nonetheless intrusive sound. Sighing heavily at the gray ceiling, she rolls over to take in the self-appointed guardian of their cell, only to come up short. She spends a moment riddled with indecision before sitting determinedly, gathering the blanket to stride across the room.

There’s no mistaking the fact that he’s cold: Newt’s visibly shivering, trembling like an autumn leaf in a gale. He doesn’t look up when she sits beside him, careful to make sure they aren’t touching, before tossing the blanket around his knees and shoulders.

“There,” Tina says tightly, “now we can both be warm.”

There’s a long, long moment when he goes eerily still, jaw flexing until he _shifts_ and all the fight bleeds out of him. “Thank you,” Newt murmurs without opening his eyes, and draws the coarse wool up to his chin.

Biting back a triumphant smirk, Tina inclines her head regally before leaning against the stone wall, staring at the opposite cell as she casts about for something, _anything_ to fill the silence.

“You should be sleeping.” Newt doesn’t look at her, and his lips barely move. Still, Tina starts as if he’d shouted, eying him warily before looking away.

“You’re right, I should be,” she mumbles, “but I have a hard time sleeping when thick-headed men take it upon themselves to be my chaperone, and freeze themselves half to death in the process.”

He jerks his chin up to meet her eyes, and she nods once, sharply, before going on. “Tell me, Mr. Scamander: why _exactly_ do you think you need to stay awake and keep guard? Surely you know that we’re safe down here.”

“I know no such thing,” he rejoins sharply, “and neither should you.” It’s a good sign that his jaw is firm enough to speak without chattering, and she bites her inner cheek to contain a triumphant smirk before rolling her eyes.

He opens his mouth to say something else but Tina hurries to talk over him, still anxious to bridge the deep rift between them.

“I’m sorry,” she says quickly, “but you _are_ warmer now. Aren’t you?”

He closes his mouth with an audible snap. Tina carefully contains the inward jolt she feels when green-gold eyes find her own, plastering a bland expression on her face while lifting an ironic eyebrow. “It’s better to be warm together than to freeze alone. Isn’t it?”

“I don’t know,” he admits in a sulky grumble. “I’ve never really had to...had to—” Whatever he’s trying to say is cut off by an unexpected, jaw-cracking yawn. He hastily smothers it as his ears turn a rather endearing shade of pink. “So sorry,” he mumbles while discreetly wiping his eyes. “I’m really not sure what came over me.”

“You’re _tired_ ,” Tina says in exasperation, “and being a stubborn ass about it.” She makes a conscious effort to soften her tone while watching him from the corner of her eye. “You should get some sleep. You can have the cot if you’d like; I’m gonna be up for a while anyway. I’m used to long hours.”

Newt eyes her curiously. “I’m not sure that’s entirely appropriate,” he finally decides. “We gave it to you, Miss Goldstein. I wouldn’t be able to sleep if I took it.”

“And what, you can sleep like this?” She makes an expansive gesture to the floor and iron bars. “Because you’re welcome to try, but I’m telling you that you can use the cot, I don’t care.” Then, before her strange bravado can abandon her entirely: “And for the love of Morrigan, please call me Tina. I think being arrested together kinda suspends the rules of polite society, don’t you?”

“Absolutely not,” Newt snaps. Then, seemingly surprised by his own forceful reaction, he blinks rapidly a few times while looking away. The back of his neck burns red beneath his ragged hair, and Tina presses her lips together to contain an ill-timed giggle. He takes a deep breath, holds it, and lets it out slowly before haltingly turning back to her.

“My apologies, Miss Goldstein,” he murmurs in a stiffly formal tone. “I don’t mean to be unpleasant.”

_Could have fooled me,_ Tina thinks, a little nastily, but is wise enough to keep the comment to herself. Sighing, she shifts to relieve the numbness creeping into her hips and thighs before closing her eyes. “It’s okay.” The blanket rustles when he moves. “I can’t really say I blame you. I had no idea all this would happen.”

There’s a long, tense moment of stillness from her companion. Then he exhales slowly, and Tina gets the sense that he’s letting go of something heavy along with it. She hides a smile when he angles his head toward her, blinking hard as he studiously avoids her eyes.

“I know you didn’t,” Newt concedes in a low rumble, “and I apologize if I seemed…” His mouth twitches when he can’t find the words until he blinks at his hands and looks away.

Tina allows her smile to show, just a little. “You are forgiven.”

She can feel that his shaking has stopped, and his skin no longer looks quite so bloodless. Satisfied with a job well done, feeling him gradually relax beside her, Tina tilts her head back against the wall and closes her eyes.

*

Unpleasant numbness in her hips and ass rouses her after a while. Grimacing, Tina shifts as discreetly as she can, stretching her legs and pointing her toes before curling her knees to encourage blood flow, all while rubbing the large muscle in her thigh.

“You should probably get up and have a walkabout,” a low voice says in her ear. She jerks her head to find Newt with his eyes closed, head canted toward her as she fidgets. “It’s no good to stay in one place for so long.”

“Well, you seem to be doing just fine,” she grumbles, wincing when pins-and-needles begin to tingle in her feet.

Newt blinks his eyes open. “That’s because I’m quite used to it,” he says in a low voice while stretching languidly. “Between tracking my—my creatures and long patrols during the war, I’ve learned how to move my muscles while at rest to keep blood flowing.” His voice grows hoarse toward the end, and a pronounced pang works through Tina when she recalls the confiscation of his case and the probable destruction of its content.

She’s sworn to herself that she wouldn’t apologize again, but Newt is visibly distraught with the reminder of their situation. Sensing intuitively that mentioning the Great War would likely lead him down an equally dark path, Tina supports herself on her hands before boldly meeting his eyes. “You’re right, I need to move around,” she admits and pushes upwards to get her tingly-numb legs beneath her. “Can you help me up?”

He throws the blanket off before rolling into a crouch, only to spring lightly to his feet. She grumbles darkly when he turns to her, eyeing her with a distinct note of hesitation before taking her hand. “Up you get,” he murmurs and steadies her by the elbow.

Tina recalls the coiled strength of him when she’d brought him to MACUSA the first time, the sense of tightly-controlled power in his arms, and swallows hard despite her flannel-dry throat. Then she’s hauled unceremoniously upright, joints creaking with protest at the sudden movement, and can’t quite smother her pained groan.

“Easy there, Tina.” Newt spreads his feet to brace them before taking her other elbow, allowing her a moment to get her legs beneath her. “Wait until the pains stop, or mostly stop; then start with small steps.”

Tears prickle her eyes as her entire lower half first tingles, then burns in protest of its callous treatment. He catches sight of them and clucks his tongue soothingly before squeezing her arm. “It will pass soon, I promise.”

No sooner are the words spoken than the awful pain reaches fever pitch, causing her to tremble until, just as suddenly as it had begun, the sensation passes. Tina gasps her relief, and she can hear the smile in his voice when he tugs gently on her arm. “Go on, then. You’ll feel better once you’ve walked around a bit.”

She manages a few circuits of the cell, careful to avoid the blissfully snoring Mr. Kowalski along the way. Tina’s third lap is interrupted by a yawn, and Newt, who persists in hovering with a careful solicitousness, shares a tiny smile. “You should be sleeping,” he reminds her.

Tina eyes the cot distastefully and is preparing to argue when Newt blinks pointedly while squaring his shoulders. He arches an eyebrow and she drops her head with a smirk, not quite able to believe that he’s bested her without words, but also unwilling to argue the point. “All right, _Dad_ , I’m going,” she says with faux exasperation.

She waits until he’s resettled in his corner before allowing herself to relax, pulling her coat closer while bunching the flat pillow beneath her head. “Sleep well, Tina,” floats to her ears after a few minutes, but she’s already sliding down into sleep and can’t be sure if it’s real or imagined.

It isn’t until her mind has disconnected, caught in that twilight state between wakefulness and true slumber, that she realizes that he’s been calling her ‘Tina’ this entire time.

*

_Slender fingers brush her arm as something heavy and warm, redolent with the scent of animals and fading cologne, is draped around her shoulders. Tina mumbles her thanks, and a lilting, newly-familiar voice murmurs that she should think nothing of it. She hums agreement while snuggling deeper into the lingering warmth of the drape, smiling as she drifts serenely._

_Male voices reach her ears, conversing in whispers before muffling a strained bit of laughter. She_ knows _those voices, and her smile expands into a grin when she recalls their names._ Jacob Kowalski _, she remembers, and her sister’s bright and ecstatic face floats across her mind._ And Newt. Mr. Scamander. And his creatures.

_Her brow wrinkles when her sleep-mind recalls everything that’s happened: the hot dog and the bank, Mary Lou and Credence Barebone. Odd little thieves called Nifflers. extermination guides and hot cocoa, a gesture meant for peace. The death of No-Maj’s, laid at the feet of someone she knows, on an instinctive level, isn’t responsible—neither he nor his beasts. Then her ill-timed intervention, done in the name of righteousness but also, deep down, spurred on by her all-consuming_ need _to prove herself_ right _—and MACUSA wrong._

_She must make a pained sound in her sleep because suddenly Newt’s distinctive voice is close._

_“You’re all right,” he murmurs, and she senses the shifting air current as he debates whether or not to touch her. “You’re safe, Tina.” She reaches out blindly, guided by something even baser than instinct, and catches his wrist. He tenses beneath her. She squeezes to let him know she’s_ there _before burrowing deeper into sleep._

_“Alright,” he whispers finally, and she feels his muscles coil as he moves. The slide of his boots and a low sigh tell her that he’s settled on the stone side of the cot. Newt rotates his hand within hers until they are pressed palm to palm, fingers lightly touching._

_“Go back to sleep,” he whispers, and she has to strain to hear him. “I’m not going anywhere.”_

_She does._

*

Tina wakes early the next morning if the dull thudding within her temples and the grit scouring her eyes are any indications. She has no watch but her internal clock tells her it is still well before sunrise. She makes to stretch when she realizes that, while her left arm is curled comfortably beneath her, her right arm is almost numb with cold.

Confusedly opening her eyes, she smothers a gasp when she recognizes the _reason_ for its numbness before hiding a soft smile in the pillow.

Newt is sitting beside the cot, knees curled to his chest with his free arm wrapped around them. His head is at an angle, his lips slightly parted as he breathes in long, slow draws. There’s no mistaking the fact that he is well and truly _asleep_ , and Tina takes a moment to admire the coppery gleam of his hair, brash in the low light, and the bronze of the freckles dusting his cheeks and hands and even the back of his neck, before squeezing his fingers.

Still deeply asleep, Newt squeezes back in wordless affirmation.

And Tina, for the first time in this seemingly endless night, is _warm_.

*


	2. Physical Discomfort

*

It has been a bad week in a worse month in a terrible year—so of course, her body picks that day to betray her.

Pain radiates through Tina’s midsection in jagged waves, occasionally retreating enough to allow her to breathe before rushing back in to steal her breath. Her thighs and hips tense and tremble painfully when she finally leaves her desk, and crossing the main concourse of MACUSA is an interminable agony until she steps onto the broad avenue and she is free.

The trip home forces her to stop, from time to time, and press her face into filthy alley brick to control her gorge, lest she heaves all over the cracked pavement.

Climbing the stairs to her apartment is a challenge, and she stops halfway to allow the pulsating ache to ease out of her thighs. She’s grimacing when she finally enters her home with a ragged sigh, kicking off her shoes and shedding her hat, in short, stilted movements.

A quick look around reveals no sister, a scrupulously clean kitchen and sitting room, a familiar blue jacket—and a wide-eyed magizoologist whom she knows she can get _nothing_ past.

Her face heats while she prays desperately for him to exhibit enough tact not to ask.

_No such luck_. Newt’s blue-green eyes flit over her worriedly as his jaw tightens. “Are you ill?” he asks while crossing the room to take her elbow. He’s almost obsequiously gentle when he leads her to the couch, where Tina mumbles an Impervious charm before sitting and covering her face with her hands.

“I’m _fine_ ,” she manages through grit teeth. Newt tuts at her while gently circling her wrist, tugging her fingers away from her face.

“You are _not_ fine,” he argues softly. Tina wishes fervently for the couch to swallow her as he takes one of her hands between his own to tenderly rub her knuckles. “Please tell me what’s wrong.”

Tina lifts her chin to smile at him, all teeth and rueful eyes as her pain and frustration flash out at him. “You really want to know? _Fine_. I feel awful and I’m _in pain_ but it’s not from an injury or a hex or a spell or anything _else_ I can control. It’s just a part of my life and there’s _nothing I can do about it_ so please stop _badgering_ me!”

Newt endures this without so much as blinking, his thumb continuing to rub soothing crescents into her skin. She watches his eyes cut to the side for a moment, gaze going distant as he thinks, before sharpening and returning to her. “Is it like this every time?” he asks mildly, instead of perhaps _why are you so angry with me for caring?_

Tina stares at him before her frustration collapses into mouthless despair. Tears prickle her eyes until she sniffs and wipes them on her sleeve.

“Yes,” she says hoarsely.

Newt slowly reaches to cup her cheek. Tina presses eagerly into the contact while closing her eyes, releasing a slow breath. He hums and tilts their heads together to lightly kiss her chin, the very tip of her nose, and her forehead. Newt pushes her hair away from her face, fingers lingering until Tina opens her eyes to find him smiling gently.

“Will you allow me to take care of you, just for tonight? I have something that may help to relieve your pain.”

His expression is open and kind and hopeful. Tina _flinches_ away from it without really meaning to, until another cramp pulses through her, causing her stomach to clench and force bile up her throat. Defeated and overruled by her own body, she swallows miserably while nodding.

Newt kisses her cheek before moving purposefully away. He climbs into his case as Tina hunches around herself, limbs trembling minutely. Newt returns within moments bearing two small glass vials, a handful of arcane leaves, and a flat rubber bladder she recognizes as a hot water bottle.

Tina watches with dull curiosity as he boils water and fills the rubber cask before steeping the leaves. He strains the brew to pour some off into a teacup. Then everything gets set on the low table as he sits beside her.

“Do you trust me?” Newt asks gently.

Tina nods without hesitation. A small smile plays around his mouth when he breaks the seal on one of the bottles. “Then drink this. Every drop, please. It’ll help with the pain.”

She catches his eye as she tips it back, smacking her lips in appreciation of the strong licorice flavor until a bitter undertone takes over, coating her tongue sourly. She grimaces while placing the back of her hand over her lips, her throat clenching warningly as moisture fills her mouth.

Newt places a supportive hand between her shoulder blades. Tina leans gratefully into it while battling her gorge. He drops two lumps of sugar into the teacup with his other hand before passing it over. “This, now. It will take away the foul taste, and help with some of the other unpleasant symptoms you are experiencing.” His hand rubs broad, soothing circles on her back before encouragingly squeezing her shoulder, his eyes soft as he watches her.

Tina manages a small mouthful. The pungent flavor of ginger and lemon coats her tongue, their astringency effectively stripping away the acrid taste of the potion. She inhales the fragrant steam, her stomach settling as she sips.

Newt’s fingers knead the knotted muscles in her lower back as she drinks, feeling the achy tension draining out of her, the sharp edge of her misery blunted by potions and tea and his simple, tender affection.

“Thank you,” she murmurs after the tremors have worked out of her hands and her thighs have relaxed.

Newt gently turns her so her back is to him as he works out all the kinks until she is pliant and loose in his hands.

“Are you hungry?” he asks. Tina shakes her head as he presses soft, slightly scratchy kisses to the nape of her neck.

Eventually, he hums and lowers the lights before standing to offer his hand. She takes it gratefully and allows him to pull her to her feet. He walks her to the door, only to have it put firmly between them as she retreats to clean up.

Tina quickly changes the trappings of her condition and wiggles into her pajamas before allowing him entrance, taking his hand to pull him into bed.

Newt wordlessly props himself against the headboard and opens his arms. She goes into them willingly, his slim fingers spread over her hips as they notch together. He tucks the rubber bladder—now warmed from within—against her lower stomach while murmuring soothingly in her ear.

The heat seeps into her as she drowses, helping to ease the lingering ache in her stomach while Newt touches her in feather-light brushes until sleep claims them both.

*

Tina comes awake to the dark of morning, groggily turning her head to find heavy-lidded blue eyes watching her.

“Good morning,” Newt murmurs in a sleep-roughened voice.

She rolls onto her back to smile at him before grimacing at the feel of slick ichor coating her thighs.

He blinks at her in momentary confusion before sitting up and offering a hand. “Go on, then,” Newt encourages once she’s upright. “I’ll be right here when you get back.” A quick glance at the clock. “You’ve some time still before you have to go to work.”

“Don’t worry about the time,” Tina says over her shoulder while gathering fresh supplies. “I have the next two days off. So I guess this”—she gestures frustratedly at herself—”is good timing. I _hate_ working when I feel this lousy.”

Newt blinks after her when she leaves the room, trailing clean pajamas and cotton rags behind her.

She returns a few minutes later to find him much the way she’d left him: eyes closed, face pressed into the pillow, suit jacket and bowtie askew. He looks slack and comfortable this way, and she chews her lip in hesitation until he lazily lifts his arm in explicit invitation.

Tina bites back a smile while slipping between the sheets, notching into the curve of his body as though she belongs there. _Maybe I do_ , she thinks when he tucks the magically re-heated water bottle against her abdomen.

His heavy hand strokes through her hair as they lay together, cozy and _relaxed_ in a way that is precious and rare. His arm tightens around her in a hug before Newt kisses the gentle curve of her shoulder, his lips dry. “Do you feel alright?” he asks in a whisper.

She doesn’t try to hide her smile.

“I do,” Tina admits. She rolls onto her back to examine his face, to watch his eyes go from her hair to her chin before focusing just to the left of her nose. He adjusts her water bottle automatically, its warmth curling through her lower belly while a calloused finger traces her profile.

Tina closes her eyes as he maps the topography of her face before moving his hand down her neck to her shoulder and trailing along her arm. His touch is undemanding, almost clinical, but she finds her body responding anyways—her skin humping into shallow goosebumps when his fingers brush it until he spreads his hand across her ribs.

Gentle lips mold to her jaw. “I’m sorry you have to suffer like this, Tina,” Newt says just beneath her ear. She opens her eyes when he kisses from her chin to her neck before nuzzling her cheek. He raises his head to regard her steadily before leaning in, and there’s no _thought_ spared when she lifts her head to meet him halfway.

Newt kisses her fully on the mouth, there on her bed with their legs and arms tangled. His fingers play with her neck when he deepens the kiss before gradually easing away to peck her throat and chin. Tina sighs happily when he presses his cheek against hers while pulling her close.

“Do you feel better, love?” he asks in a rich, low voice.

Tina smiles at the ceiling, at him, at the warmth filling her chest. “I’m perfect,” she says and means it.

*


	3. Flashbacks

*

Tina wakes with a start, throat locked against a cry when she jerks upright to frantically look around.

Her heart rate gradually slows as she takes in the trappings of her room: the carved acorn posts of her bed, her simple blue dressing robe piled messily on the floor, and the intricate beadwork adorning her bedside lamp. All these things are comfortable and _familiar_ , and the heavy specter of the nightmare begins to lift until she realizes something is missing.

She sighs while patting the empty space beside her, conspicuously devoid of the warm, masculine presence that should be there. Newt’s only been back in New York for three days, but already she recognizes the changes to her sleeping pattern when he’s around, the way she allows herself to truly _relax_ in the presence of someone she trusts implicitly.

Tina finds herself wondering whether the visitation of her typically absent nightmare has anything to do with him not being there, and immediately feels guilty for it.

It’s the work of a few flicks of her wrist to dry the sweat-stained sheets, freshen her pajamas and smooth her hair. She slings her wand into its holster while leaving the room without the benefit of light, closing the door softly behind her.

She finds Newt slumped at the kitchen table. His mug of tea steams into the air as he presses the heel of his hands into his eyes, his posture a picture of exhaustion. He looks up when she enters the room to flash a wan smile before taking his wand in hand.

“Would you like some hot cocoa?” Newt asks in a low voice. Tina nods meekly, worrying her lip between her teeth as he rises. He pulls out a neighboring chair in clear invitation, his smile strengthening somewhat when she crosses the room. She sits gratefully, and he ducks his head to drop a kiss in her hair before Summoning milk and cocoa powder.

He makes her drink with practiced efficiency, and before long they are sitting companionably, shoulders barely touching as he fiddles with his spoon and she sips her drink. A glance at the clock reveals that it’s just past 3 am, the witching hour. Tina smothers a sigh with the realization that sleep will not be visiting her again this night.

Newt followers her gaze with a frown. “I am truly sorry,” he says softly. “I had no intention of waking you when I came out here. Only, I couldn’t sleep, and I was afraid my tossing would keep you up.” He grimaces at the tablecloth. “Seems I was wrong.”

Tina has discovered, in the earliest stages of this thing between them, that touching him, and being touched _by_ him, was easier than it had any right to be. She reaches through the gap to stroke his fingers.

“It’s okay,” she tells him with a slight smile. Newt lifts his head to blink into her eyes, his lips compressed into a thin line. She soothingly traces the ropey scars covering his knuckles. “I had a bad dream. _That’s_ what woke me up, not you.”

He stares at their hands for a long moment before rotating his wrist, pressing their palms together. Tina smiles at the table when he squeezes her reassuringly before taking a sip of his tea.

“Would talking about it help?” Newt doesn’t look away from where he cradles her, and his tone is almost idle. But there is renewed tension in his shoulders and straining the curve of his neck.

She weighs her answer before setting her mug aside.

“It’s always the same thing,” Tina tells him slowly. He purses his lips but doesn’t look at her. Instead, he squeezes her hand in gentle encouragement.

“So is mine,” he mutters when it becomes clear she has nothing else to add, and his voice is hoarse. “It’s the war. The mud and the rain. The smell of blood. Creatures and people dying, and there’s nothing I can do about… _any_ of it.”

She watches his eyes fill with tears, though he makes no move to brush them away. “It used to happen every night. Now it’s just some nights. But that’s why I left your bed, Tina.” He squeezes her fingers. “I’m very sorry that you had to wake up alone.”

“It’s okay,” Tina reassures him and takes a sip of her drink to mask the trembling in her lips. The burden of secrets she’s never shared with anyone is heavy on her lips, and she struggles to swallow them along with the sweet, fortifying beverage. She gets them down but they sour in her stomach until she sets her cup aside with a grimace.

Newt lifts his face to her, his eyes wide and dark. He brushes his thumb along the crest of her cheek, and it’s only then that she realizes she’s crying.

“I’m sorry,” he whispers and brings his thumb to his mouth to taste her tears. Tina chokes while squeezing his hand, the dreadful words surging, unbidden, past her lips.

“It’s a man,” she blurts. He falls eerily still, head tilted in a listening gesture. Tina looks deliberately away. “My dream, I mean. It’s a guy, and he—he puts his hands on me. He _hurts_ me because he _wants_ to do it.”

“I am sorry,” he says again. “Tina, I _truly_ had no idea.”

A shudder works through her as her throat clogs. “I always come awake right before he manages to, but…” She shakes her head as the familiar taste of regret and self-loathing fills her mouth. “That isn’t how it happened in real life.”

Across from her, Newt exhales sharply. She keeps her eyes averted when his fingers tighten painfully around hers, knuckles going white as he trembles once, sharply, before freeing her. She can see the way his jaw clenches in her extreme periphery until he bows his head to allow a series of shudders to work through him.

She finally musters the courage to face him, bracing herself for dismay, disgust or rejection. Instead, he looks shattered, face and lips pale, fingers knotted fretfully before him as his limbs quake. “I would never have taken physical liberties with you,” Newt says in a frantic mumble, “if I had only known. Oh, _Tina_.”

His miserably damp eyes overflow when they meet hers, freckled cheeks coursing with tears.

Tina leans forward on instinct to wipe them away while cradling his jaw, feeling the minute tremors that still affect him. “It’s okay,” she promises. “I’ve never told anyone. Not even Queenie. I mean, she _knows_ , but only because she could see it.” She laughs, a little wetly. “I can’t keep anything from her, especially when I try.”

Newt hiccups, his shoulders hitching as he slumps into himself. The relief of _telling_ him, of telling anyone, and his apparent acceptance is at stark odds with her guilt for making him miserable. Tina slides her arm around his shoulders to pull him close, allowing him to hide his face in her hair.

They calm in increments as they lean against each other until she looks down to find that he’s holding his hands tensely, hovering awkwardly in the air as he breathes against her skin.

The realization comes to her in a flash, and she has to hide her confused, elated, _relieved_ smile in his neck.

“You can still touch me, Newt,” she whispers. “I told you when you came back that you could, and that hasn’t changed.” A thought occurs, and she bites her lip worriedly. “Unless...you don’t _want_ to anymore.”

He jerks his head up in obvious shock, both hands rising to gently frame her face. “ _No_ ,” Newt says emphatically. He brushes his thumbs over her jaw before cautiously leaning their foreheads together. Tina musters a small smile in welcome. He sighs in apparent relief while speaking directly into her eyes. “I want to touch you, Tina. I _always_ crave contact with you, and that will never change.” He shakily tucks her hair behind her ear. “Now, perhaps more than ever.”

The sweetness of his tea is on his lips when she kisses him, a gentle press that he reciprocates in kind before drawing back. Their cups are forgotten when they rise as one to leave the table, their hands linked as they climb into bed.

Tina lays with her back to his chest as he touches her hair and face with light, reverent fingers. She turns toward him after a time, to kiss his mouth and cheek and jaw before brushing the hair away from his face.

“We are _more_ than what we have survived, Tina,” Newt tells her in a whisper.

She kisses his mouth again, more strongly this time, until his arms find her waist to haul her close. Tina wishes only to crawl into his skin, to take refuge in his body and _hide_ ; instead, she touches his arms and stomach and chest, marveling over the planes and angles of his familiar form as he tips her head back to kiss her throat and collarbones.

He moves to stop her when she unfastens his pajamas until she kisses him in explanation. “You aren’t _him_ ,” she reassures breathlessly. “I want to do this. I know you won’t hurt me.”

Newt nods hesitantly before allowing her to peel back his layers until her hands know _all_ of him and his breath comes in sharp rasps.

Tina has to encourage him to help her with her own garments until his trepidation falters and he frees her. Small, shocked sounds slip past her lips as he maps her curves.

“I don’t dream of _pain_ when I’m with you,” Newt gasps against her skin, and she presses closer while urging his hand _downward_.

Her relieved sigh gives way to a shapeless moan, formed crudely around the fingers that brush her. She snakes her arm between them to take him in hand, and Newt kisses her temple as she strokes him, her movements long and slow and precisely what they both need.

His well-formed chest presses into her back as they move together, legs and arms tangled as gasps and moans fill the air. He covers her heart with one hand, the other pressed between her legs as his hips roll into her fist.

“Tina, my love,” Newt breathes humidly against her ear. She turns her head to kiss him before moaning into his mouth.

Her fingers dig into his skin when he urges her to the brink, until the pressure is too much and she crumbles, hips rocking when she surges against him with a cry.

He follows quickly after, hiding his face in her hair as he gasps her name. They touch and stroke in the aftermath, reaffirming their belief in each other through words to emphasize the act they just shared between them.

Tina cleans them both with her wand before telling her story: slowly, haltingly, detailing her assault at the hands of a stranger until his cheeks are damp with tears. She kisses them away, tasting the salty proof of his boundless empathy and love for her against her lips.

Newt waits until they have both calmed before telling his own tale: painfully recounting the loss of every comrade, wizard, and dragon until he shudders and measures his breathing.

Tina pulls him close and strokes his hair. “I love you, I love you,” she breathes into his skin. His lashes brush her cheek when he closes his eyes. “Things will be better in the morning. I promise.”

They sleep pressed together, arms and legs twined until sunlight slants brightly through the window.

There are no more nightmares that night.

*


	4. Physical Gratification

*

It’s to be their most difficult goodbye yet, if their shortest: two months in England to tie-up loose ends before the third edition of his book is sent to the publisher. Two months to put the finishing touches on the cottage in Dorset that he’d inherited from his Muggle grandmother—a cottage that Tina hasn’t seen except in pictures, but she promises she’ll love.

Two months until Newt will see her again.

He wakes before dawn, as is his habit, and cleans up his sleeping space before stumbling out of his little shed. His creatures are attended to with typical enthusiasm, lovingly watered and fed before he takes the time to shore up their habitats, double-check his supplies, and ensure his suitcase will remain maintenance-free during his week-long voyage to England.

Then he attends to himself: a quick breakfast of tea and dry toast (Newt remembers well how badly he typically fares during his first day or two at sea and knows his stomach will be unable to tolerate anything heavier) followed by an even quicker shower.

He takes his time shaving, knowing it’s a luxury he won’t have while on the boat. He’s fastidious as he splashes on his aftershave and cologne, knowing how much Tina likes the scent of it, and even makes the attempt to comb his hair out of his eyes before calling it good enough.

Tina’s bedroom is awash in pearly shadows when he sets down his case before easing onto the edge of her bed. She’s deeply asleep, face half buried in the pillow with the blankets pulled to her chin.

Newt smiles to himself, stroking a flyaway hank of dark hair while debating whether or not to wake her—a decision that’s taken out of his hands when Tina stretches, moans beautifully, and then rolls to face him.

“Good morning,” he whispers and kisses her.

She kisses him back with sleepy enthusiasm before nipping his bottom lip and moving away. “It’s a good morning now,” Tina whispers while kissing his neck. “Even though you’re leaving.”

Newt doesn’t know whether to frown at her words or make a soft noise of pleasure at the feel of her lips against his skin, but then she shrugs to allow the blanket to fall and it doesn’t matter either way.

She is naked beneath the covers, or at least topless, and as he takes in willowy limbs, fair skin and the small globe of her breasts, tipped with dusky pink nipples, his tongue sticks to the roof of his mouth, robbing him of speech.

She glances at her alarm clock before slowly turning back to him. “What time do you have to be at the dock?”

Newt glances at the dial but most of his focus remains on her. “I have a little over an hour,” he manages to press out and doesn’t resist when she takes his wrists to tug him closer.

“Plenty of time, then,” Tina whispers against his mouth and guides his hands to her breasts. He cups them on instinct, dragging his thumbs across her nipples until she sighs raggedly. “Please touch me, Newt,” she breathes through swollen lips. He gasps and hesitates for a bare moment before leaning in to kiss her, unwilling and unable to resist.

Tina drags him along when she falls back, hauling him atop her as their legs tangled together. This isn’t their first time tumbling into bed together, but this _is_ their first encounter during daylight hours, when they can not only feel and hear but _see_ every reaction. Her skin is moonstone in the faint, early morning light, her lips rose quartz. She moans into his kiss while knotting the hair at the nape of his neck, and the swell of her breasts are crushed between them when he wiggles down to taste her throat.

Newt plants kisses along the ridge of her sternum and the upper swell of her breast before mouthing her nipple. She makes a low sound of welcome when he sucks it gently before circling it with his finger, watching her face carefully.

Tina meets his eyes and breathes his name as he moves to her other breast, fingers never faltering. The sound she makes goes straight to his center when he pulls her between his lips. He releases her with a sigh to suck tiny, strawberry-shaped marks into the pale swell before moving lower, swirling his tongue the length of her stomach. Newt moves down her body with eely sinuousness when his mouth traces her navel, finding the faintest dark line that leads lower before following it with his lips.

Tina parts her legs to grant him access, allowing him to sprawl between her knees while covering the crux of her thighs with one hand, the other drawing shapes over her hips and stomach.

She mewls needily when he pets her, teasingly tracing the seam of her quim while kissing the crease of her knee. Squirming, she spreads her legs wider, tugging his shoulder to encourage greater contact until he smirks up at her from beneath her mound.

“Do you want me to touch you?”

Tina rolls her hips and murmurs his name in answer, covering his hand with her own to foster closer contact.

Newt hastily kicks the blankets away and loosens his bow tie while leaning in to kiss just beneath her navel, making her hiss. “We don’t have much time,” he breathes into her skin with a touch of regret, “but I can still give you something to remember me by while I’m gone, with your permission. May I, love?”

She threads her fingers through his hair before tracing the shell of his ear. “Whatever you want,” Tina breathes and smiles radiantly down at him. “I trust you, you know that. Just make me feel _good._ ”

He growls deep in his throat before parting her with his thumb and forefinger to expose her fleshy interior. Newt dips his head to drag his teeth very gently over her mound while drawing his fingertip along the seam of her opening, gathering moisture to spread over the hood of her clit. He circles her deftly in tightening spirals, watching her flush prettily as she squirms beneath him, back arching gently off the mattress.

Newt waits until she’s making low, needy sounds before abandoning her clit to sink two fingers into her. She stretches around them tautly, and he gives her a moment to adjust before setting a slow, firm pace, sinking to the knuckles only to withdraw almost entirely before pushing back in.

Tina coos his name, squeezing the blue fabric covering his shoulders, and it isn’t until he presses his forehead against her leg that he realizes how warm he is, and how tight his suit feels.

He sucks his fingers clean when he pulls them out of her, her low, bereft moan morphing into a yelp of surprise when he dips to kiss and suckle her cunt. He’s panting slightly as he uses his strong back and stomach to support his own weight while kissing her outer lips, shoving off his great coat and suit coat in brisk, staccato movements, and fumbling open the fastenings on his waistcoat before wrapping his arms around her thighs.

Tina gasps loudly when he replaces his lips with his tongue, probing her gently while sliding his hands over her stomach to lace their fingers together.

She sighs his name as he laves her, sucking at her loose, hot skin before pressing his tongue inside to taste her. A quiver ripples through her when he moves upward, drawing shapes over her clit before pressing it with the flat of his tongue until she drapes her leg over his shoulder and her hands clench around his.

Newt focuses his efforts, groaning into her until she trembles beneath him, her quim fluttering rhythmically against his lips. Tina gasps his name at the peak of it, hips arching off the mattress. She slumps and frees his hand to gently push his head away when it gets to be too much, breathing his name as he kisses her thigh wetly before lifting his head.

“That was good, then?” Newt asks and is rewarded with a radiant smile.

Tina catches her breath while he climbs to his knees, kissing a slow path up her body to her mouth. Her fingers trace the front of his trousers, the part of him that is hot and hard and vital, and they share a moan when she wraps her legs around his waist to encourage him to settle against her. Newt groans when primal heat seeps through the thin wool, hips jerking against her automatically until he reins in the urge.

“I wish we could make love,” Tina sighs against his ear. Newt squeezes his eyes shut while kissing her neck.

“It’s not the time for that yet,” he reminds her before sucking the notch in her throat. She moans his name, and he takes a moment to pant for breath before going on. “Soon, my love.”

“I know,” she breathes, and presses her hips up and into his, making him moan. “In the meantime, what are we going to do about you?” She twitches again, a slow, sensual roll, until he reaches between them. Tina smirks when he opens the placket of his trousers, exposing the fine linen of his underpants before shoving the brown wool past his hips.

_”This,”_ Newt hisses and grinds the heaviness of his cock against her. He moans into her mouth when she tugs him in for a kiss, before planting his fists on the mattress to thrust against her. Tina angles her hips to allow his length to rub the entirety of her, her moisture soaking the linen so it clings to him, slicking his way as they rut.

With a groan, he draws his knees in to cradle her hips, the better to angle the head of his cock so it bumps her clit as she gasps and tugs at his shirt. Buttons go flying when she yanks it open to rake his chest, moaning his name as she writhes beneath him before sinking her fingernails into the small of his back.

“Almost,” she gasps at his searching look. He nods while sliding his hand along her thigh, squeezing her close and rocking them together faster until he chokes and hides his face in her throat.

He growls like a beast while pressing against her inexorably. “I’m gonna come,” he warns with a gasp, feeling the thin thread of his control beginning to fray.

Tina rocks her hips in increasing counterpoint to his thrusts, whimpering his name as she latches onto the sensitive spot on his neck, the one that causes him to melt in her arms. She bites hard enough to make him shudder and gasp, moaning when she tenses beneath him before crying out.

Her cunt pulsates rhythmically where Newt digs into it, his body shuddering when the knot at the base of his cock dissolves and he comes, hard enough to see stars.

He catches himself on badly trembling arms and knees, panting against her neck before tonguing the soft, sweaty skin. Tina wraps around him with a happy sigh, urging him to drape over her like a shield as she strokes his neck and hair. He gives in after a brief internal struggle, memorizing her sounds of delight while ignoring the sodden mess in his underpants until she sighs and squeezes his shoulder.

“You were right,” Tina declares, and he can hear the laughter in her voice. “I am _certainly_ not going to forget that anytime soon.” She touches his lips before kissing a pleasantly sore spot on his neck in apology. “That’s gonna bruise. I’m sorry.”

Newt kisses her, long and deep and slow, until she sighs and smiles up at him. “You are forgiven,” he whispers while rocking onto his haunches to help her sit up.

It’s the work of only a few moments to magic away the rapidly-cooling mess staining his front and gather his clothing. Repairing his shirt takes a little more time but before long he’s neatly put together, and she even uses her fingers to comb the sweaty tangles out of his hair.

Tina pulls on her house robe for the sake of propriety but doesn’t bother to tie it before taking his hand. “Two months,” she reminds him and kisses his mouth. “It’ll fly by, and when you get back…” Her eyes are heated where they land on him, suggestive, and he feels an answering warmth in his chest when he pushes her hair away from her eyes to tuck behind her ear.

“Yes,” Newt promises. “When I come home, I will make love to you properly. Tina, I swear it.”

She grins and kisses the tip of his nose. “I know that because we’ll be married soon after.” The smile slowly falls away in favor of a serious expression. “Will you let me walk you to the door, at least?”

He glances at the clock to see that they are more pressed for time than he would like, and makes the decision to Disapparate to the dock for the sake of expediency.

“Of course, love,” he whispers, and the sunlight turns her hair into ash and cinders as they say their goodbyes.

*


	5. Esteem

*

Tina opens the envelope with trembling hands. Ostentatious gold wax sticks to her fingers as she reads, phrases such as _mandatory attendance_ and _punctuality is appreciated_ and _memorial to service, dress uniform required_ leaping off the page.

She slumps in place with the sudden clarity of understanding, before confirming the date of the function. _Tonight. No wonder Newt’s been so distant. When was he planning on telling me?_

“I see you’ve found me out.”

His voice is without censure, but heat still slams into her face when she whirls, parchment falling to the floor. He’s standing in the doorway separating the bedroom and sitting room, his hands clasped loosely behind him. Tina drops her eyes to his battered brown boots, now polished to a high shine.

“I’m sorry,” she murmurs. “I was snooping, and I know I shouldn’t have been, but…”

She blinks as she trails off, gradually realizing that his boots don’t lead to his typical brown trousers. Instead, narrow-legged dungarees in a coarse blue-gray fabric are tucked carefully into his boot buckles. She follows a long, lean leg past his belted, narrow waist, over the boxy jacket he wears, to the short black cape slung over his right shoulder. His left sports a matching braid, and his exposed breast and arm are covered with various patches, badges, and elaborate ranking insignia.

Tina gapes at him, temporarily stunned into silence. He watches her nervously through deeply-shadowed eyes, eyes made darker by the dress grays uniform he’s wearing. She distantly thinks that the color shouldn’t compliment him so well—and yet somehow, it _does_ , the neutral shade contrasting the darker tones in his eyes while bringing out the red in his hair. Hair which has been temporarily tamed, greased, and slicked off his high forehead.

“So, you _are_ attending,” she says faintly.

Newt hesitates a moment before nodding. “I don’t particularly _want_ to,” he admits in a hoarse voice, “but I fear my brother may kill me if I don’t.” He toes the floor awkwardly. “At least I don’t have to grow a mustache,” he jokes weakly. “I suppose I should be thankful for that.”

She manages a shaky sigh while trying not to feel hurt by his obfuscation. “Why didn’t you tell me?”

He meets her eyes. “I didn’t want you to worry about me,” Newt admits with simple honesty. “You know that I…that I suffer _nightmares_ , Tina. They’ve returned recently. I’ve mostly managed to wake myself before they get too bad, but…” He trails off. “You’ve done so well with your sleeping difficulties that I didn’t want to burden you with my problems.”

Tina looks hard at his face, taking in the deepened lines around his mouth, the bronzed skin made pale with nerves and strain. She frowns while crossing her arms over her chest. “You still should have told me,” she says flatly, prompting him to wince and look away.

“You’re right.” His jaw clenches.

“I’m going with you.” Her tone gives no quarter for argument, yet Newt still makes as if to protest until she raises an eyebrow in warning. He takes a long look at her before nodding curtly.

“If that is what you wish,” he says softly. “I would—I’d appreciate your company if I’m being honest.” He exhales shakily. “My brother is sure to want to trade war stories, and I…” A delicate shudder works through him.

Against her better judgment, Tina finds herself softening toward him. She crosses the room to put a hand on his elbow, feeling the way he trembles beneath his uniform. “Give me five minutes,” she says as gently as she can manage. “And then we’ll leave.”

She doesn’t wait for a response, just ducks into the bedroom while her mind turns to the matter of what to wear.

*

Theseus Scamander is as loud and garrulous as she remembers, greeting her with an enthusiastic handshake after thumping Newt soundly on the shoulder.

Tina watches the brothers carefully, noting the way Newt seems to _shrink_ in Theseus’ larger-than-life shadow, growing less vital the longer his brother prattles on. The two are a good foil for each other: despite Newt’s technically higher rank, he allows Theseus to take credit for things that _he_ planned and orchestrated as a natural extension of his inborn humility.

_War hero, indeed_ , she thinks ironically, and sets her jaw

Theseus launches into another harrowing tale, and Tina abruptly realizes that she has reached her saturation point. She’s none-too-gentle when she pulls Newt away, tossing the war hero a strained smile. Newt goes willingly, stumbling after her with a dazed expression until she pushes him into a secluded corner and casts her strongest privacy charms.

_”Thank you,”_ he murmurs fervently and presses his face into her neck to hide when she embraces him. She notes his trembling and frowns while smoothing a hand over his slick hair.

“Any time,” Tina promises and touches his cheek. He inhales sharply before turning his head to catch her lips with his own. The kiss is disorganized and intense and _perfect_ , allowing him to funnel his jangling nerves into something positive. Tina parts her lips in welcome, tasting earth and champagne and _him_ , until he moves away to press soft kisses along her jaw and chin.

“My Tina,” Newt murmurs while opening his eyes. “I’m so glad you’re here. I am truly sorry I didn’t come to you.” His hands fall to her waist when she straightens his collar. “I don’t know what I was thinking.”

She shows a small, forgiving smile while fingering his unusually smooth skin. “It’s just like creatures do, isn’t it?” She kisses his jaw. “They hide when they’re hurt. I’m not surprised you didn’t tell me.” She toys with the line of buttons over his chest as he watches her. “Besides, you look _very_ handsome in your uniform—you were afraid I’d throw myself at you, weren’t you?”

Newt huffs a shocked breath of laughter while taking her hand. “Yes, something like that,” he teases gently. He kisses her knuckles, his lips lingering. “I’d be lost if you weren’t here, Tina.” His eyes watch her unflinchingly, his mouth a firm line.

She squeezes him in gentle acknowledgment, allowing them a moment to connect before taking a decisive step back.

“I know,” Tina says, and lowers their privacy charms. “But I think it’s time we go back before your brother starts rumors.”

“My brother,” Newt growls, “is a pompous ass. But you’re right, I suppose.” Tina watches sadly as his expression darkens and become closed-off, turning his eyes into the eyes of a soldier—one who’s seen far too much action in too short a time. “Duty calls,” he murmurs and offers his elbow.

Tina goes with him, secretly admiring the way his tailored uniform narrows his waist and broadens his compact shoulders, and tries not to feel guilty for it.

*

They arrive home well after midnight, bone-tired but too keyed up for sleep.

Newt retreats into his case while Tina showers, scrubbing away the taint of the banquet before joining him in his shed. She finds him curled in his worn armchair, dressed in his usual white shirt and trousers, feet bare and sleeves rolled to his elbows with the top buttons on the shirt undone. A heavy tome lies open across his lap as he stares moodily into the flickering glow of the lamp.

She deposits herself at his feet, laying her head on his thigh. He absently reaches down to stroke her hair, his touch light, almost reverent.

She’s halfway through the latest edition of _Witch Weekly_ when he sighs shakily and sets his book aside. Tina marks her place before turning to look at him, finding his expression both drawn and open.

“I’m sorry,” Newt says. “I’m certain you’re tired of hearing it, but it’s _true_. I know I’ve been distant these past few weeks.” He swallows while tracing the curve of her cheek. “I just wanted to spare you any...suffering.”

Tina kneels and reaches out to pet his hair. “Why are _you_ suffering?” She asks. “Can you tell me?”

He bows his head, and she drops a kiss on his crown before sliding her arm around his shoulder.

“I told you,” he whispers, “the nightmares came back. They’re worse than they’ve been in a long time. I didn’t want to wake you.” He breathes carefully. “That’s really all it is, and I think I’ll feel much better now that this _bloody_ banquet is over.”

She strokes the nape of his neck. “Why don’t I believe you?” she muses aloud. He tenses in her arms, preparing to draw away until she tightens her hold on him. “No, sorry, I didn’t mean it like that,” Tina hastily amends. “I just get the feeling there’s _more_ that you aren’t telling me.”

“Perhaps there is,” he admits, “but it’s not anything I’m ready to share with you.” He exhales shakily. “What would convince you, Tina? How can I show you that I’m all right?” It’s a sign of how keen he is to reassure her when he doesn’t look away, keeping his eyes firmly on hers when she leans close.

“I’m not sure,” she says, “but I think a kiss would be a good place to start.”

Part of her expects him to say no, to deny her with some feeble excuse. Instead, his work-roughened hands gently frame her face, fingering her hair to brush his mouth over hers in electrifying contact. Drawing back, Newt licks his lips thoughtfully and examines her before murmuring, “Let’s try that again, shall we?” and leaning in.

The grease in his hair coats her palm when he tugs her into his lap, lips firm and sweet against hers. She sighs as he fingers the edge of her nightgown before pushing it past her hips, his hands sliding along her inner thigh to find her humid and bare. He breaks away with a gasp when he cards through the damp curls at her center, until she roughly hauls him in for a searing kiss.

“Are you sure you want to do this?” Newt gasps into her mouth. She sheds her dressing gown and nightgown by way of answering, unselfconsciously tossing them aside before he cups and squeezes her breasts. Her nipples tingle into hard points, and he groans before hungrily flicking them with his tongue.

It’s the work of a few seconds to open his fly, exposing his starched white underwear. Newt gasps encouragingly when she reaches inside, stroking him in time to his movements between her legs before hooking her fingers around the waistband of his trousers. He lifts his hips to allow her to tug them off, kicking them aside as she leans in to kiss him while unbuttoning his shirt.

Her teeth scrape his neck at the same time his fingers find her clit. Tina whines and jerks approvingly before rolling her hips against him in a primal, sensual rhythm. He slides his fingers through her folds, sometimes rubbing and sometimes tweaking until her thighs tense and her stomach muscles contract as Newt watches her worshipfully, drinking in her reaction when she meets his eyes and _moans_ , muscles quivering.

She shudders before wrenching her hips away from his hand. Smirking, he slips his fingers into his mouth to suck them clean as she moves to the very edge of the chair to bend and kiss his length. He hisses at the press of her lips, trembling with restraint when she runs out her tongue to taste the tip. He watches her as she kisses and gently sucks before taking him into her mouth, engulfing him as she bobs her head and collapses her cheeks.

Newt pants for breath above her, his fingers tightening erratically in her hair as she pleasures him. She draws the flat of her tongue along the thick vein on the underside of his cock, feeling the tremor that starts in his thigh when she laves it before releasing him with a pop. Tina kisses down to the base as he flags against his stomach, before sucking the loose flesh where he is fullest between her lips. Newt groans her name, fingers fisting in her hair until she catches his eye.

He has to moisten his lips before he can speak. “Is this what you need?” he asks hoarsely. His hands tremble where they hold her. “Or did you have...something else in mind?”

Tina takes a moment to admire his flushed cheeks and kiss-swollen lips, the light behind his eyes—no longer dark and haunted—before stretching to kiss him. Newt groans in anticipation when she walks forward on her knees, gasping into his mouth as she lines them up.

“Is this okay?” she asks when he bumps her entrance. He nods before reclaiming her lips, wrapping his arms around her waist while urging her hips _down_. She joins their bodies with matching gasps, shudders chasing through them both as they breathe together. Tina kisses him deeply, taking a few moments to adjust before bracing on his shoulders when she begins to move.

Newt eases her back onto his supportive arms to taste her neck and throat, shortening his slide within her as she rolls her hips. Tina moans breathlessly when he lays a path of kisses up her jaw to her ear, only to shudder when he presses insistent fingertips between her legs. She leverages herself upright as he brushes her clit in tight circles, raking her fingernails over his back as he mouths her breast, his hips lifting off the worn cushions.

“ _Oh_ ,” she pants as her stomach muscles begin to quiver. “Newt, I need—”

“You need to _come_ ,” he growls into her mouth. She gasps, allowing him to suck her tongue while his fingers press deeper, stroke harder. Tina shudders while grabbing his shoulders, bracing herself to _grind_ onto his cock as her breath hitches. Her other hand threads into his hair when she twitches against him, mindless with need as she strains toward release.

She meets his eyes when heat swells in her center, his hands landing on her hips to ground her as she shudders. Warmth unfurls between them until she gasps, “Oh, you’re gonna make me—” and snaps in his arms. He holds her, catching her when she folds into his embrace with a series of breathy moans before tilting his hips into her.

Her tremors subside as he grinds them together, teeth bared when he finds his own release with a hissing growl. Tina sags against him, sucking and nibbling his neck as he twitches and moans until they collapse into a sweaty heap.

Newt’s hand is a damp weight when he pushes her hair back to kiss her languidly. Tina welcomes it with a blissful sigh, sliding her tongue along his until he pulls back to dapple her cheek and jaw. “Tina,” he murmurs into her skin, “that was…” He trails off when he can’t seem to find the words.

“Wasn’t it?” she smirks. He exhales slowly while nodding, eyes wide in his face. She lathers him with soft kisses until he smiles, solemn expression melting away in favor of a blush.

She moves off of him with a low sound, grimacing when his seed oozes down her thigh. Her legs tremble as he cleans her, gently but thoroughly wiping away all evidence of their activities. Newt steadies her from the armchair when she stands, making sure she’s secure on her watery knees before climbing to his feet. He cradles her jaw for a long moment, looking into her eyes before speaking. “Do you feel better?”

Tina thinks about it before nodding. “I do,” she decides. “You always manage to know just what I need, even before I realize I need it.” She touches his chest. “How do you do that?”

“I’ve no idea,” Newt answers with simple honesty. “But I’m grateful that you think so.” He kissed her lingeringly before using his wand to expand and dress the simple army cot tucked into the corner, guiding her toward it. “You should sleep,” he whispers while helping her into the bunk. “I will join you in a bit.”

Tina burrows into the ragged blankets, which have been permeated with his scent, while he fluffs her pillow. “Will _you_ be okay?” she asks, reaching out to stroke his wrist. “I know you were upset. About the banquet. And your brother, the ass.” He sits lightly on the edge of the cot to tuck the pillow beneath her head.

“I will be,” Newt promises. “I just need some time to settle the creatures. Then I’ll come to you.”

“Good,” Tina sighs. “I sleep better when you’re here.” She glances at him. “And I know you do, too. You don’t have as many nightmares.” Newt frees her bottom lip from between her teeth before tracing her mouth meditatively.

“That’s true,” he concedes. “And I _will_ come to you. I promise.”

She closes her heavy eyelids after one more long, searching look. “You’d better,” she threatens around a yawn. “I’ll know if you don’t.” Another yawn, this one longer and deeper. “I’m an Auror. I can hex you six ways to Sunday without even opening my mouth.”

Newt laughs softly before leaning in to kiss her cheek. “I am aware, love,” he whispers. “Sleep now. I’ll be back soon.”

Tina hums and pushes gently against his mouth until he stands to leave, the shed door closing silently behind him. She falls asleep to the familiar and soothing sounds of the case, her cheek tingling where his lips had graced it.

*


	6. Newt - Healing

*

It’s the pain that wakes him, a low, all-over ache that makes him groan before he’s even reached full consciousness. Tina stirs beside him, and Newt cracks open a single eye to take in the lacey veil of white obscuring the window before burrowing deeper into the blankets.

“Are you okay?” Her voice is slurry and thick with sleep. Newt manages a bare grunt while struggling to sink back _down_ —into the mattress, and rest, and perhaps some measure of respite.

“That’s one hell of a blizzard,” she mumbles while sitting up. He watches her run her fingers through her flat hair, squinting at the storm outside before turning to him. Her face is gentle when she touches him, her eyes kind. “Is it the weather that’s making you hurt?” she asks, stroking his stubbly cheek.

Newt manages a low sound of assent. He’d felt the first warning twinges last night, and had commented on the incoming storm before sleep. Now, as the wind howls around the eaves, he grimaces while trying to sit up. _“Buggering hell.”_

Tina looks distinctly amused when she climbs from beneath the warm blankets, drawing her house robe tightly around her as she pokes her feet into slippers. She turns to brace his arm as he struggles upright until he gives it up for a lost cause and slumps into the pillows.

“Is it really that bad?” she asks. Newt gives her a sideways look in answer, and she smiles while perching on the edge of the bed, rubbing calming circles on his shoulder and chest. “I guess it is,” she laughs, a soft sound that brings a smile to his face. “Can I get you anything, Newt? Something from your case, maybe?”

He closes his eyes, tipping his head to rest against her forearm. He hums thoughtfully before setting his jaw and struggling upright, fighting the pain and stiffness in his body. Tina steadies him until he gets his feet beneath him and can gingerly stretch. It helps, a little, and rocking his head on his neck to crack it helps even more.

Still, he _hurts_ , pain radiating steadily through him from jaw to ankles, concentrated especially in his knees and the small of his back, and searing through his scars. He looks up to find Tina watching him carefully, bottom lip clenched between her teeth as wide eyes take him in.

“I’m all right,” he murmurs with a smile. “It’s the storm, though I admit that I haven’t felt _this_ bad since…” He scratches his head with stiff, swollen fingers before wincing and making a careful fist. “Since Tibet, I think. There was a terrible storm. What I felt then wasn’t quite _this_ bad, but I was in bed for an entire day. I knew it was coming; my knees have always been a reliable indicator of the weather.”

It’s meant to be a joke, but it’s weak as water and falls flat. Tina slips behind him, clucking her tongue while rubbing his shoulders very gently. “Does anything help it?”

He smiles down at his stocking feet. “Not really, no. I have a few potions in my case that can alleviate some of the stiffness, and an oil an old monk gave me which I use in a salve. I’m afraid I’m doomed to discomfort for the next few days.”

Tina leans into him for a light hug. She kisses his cheek, lips lingering over his stubble before stroking his hair. “Do you need to do anything today? Or can you spend the day in bed?” She glances out the window. “I have it off, thank Paracelsus, so I can take care of you, if you’d like. Just tell me what to do.”

Newt turns his head to kiss her, slow and lingering, pushing all his _thanks_ into the kiss. “I’d like that,” he admits. “I’d feel better if I got up to move around, but I’m not confident I can handle the stairs down into the case.” His knees flare with sudden pain as if to underscore his point, and he grimaces while rubbing them. “My legs, you understand.”

She nods and kisses the side of his neck before standing. “I don’t mind going to get it.” She leans in to press her lips to his forehead, a lingering brush, while fluffing the pillows. Gentle pressure on his shoulders encourages him to lay back, and he sighs while sinking into the soft bed. “I’ll make us some breakfast and feed the creatures if that’s okay.” She tucks the blanket around his shoulders, and he basks in her tender affections. “And the potion you need, what’s it look like?”

Newt catches her wrist to thread their fingers together, forcing himself to make eye contact. “The potion is in a purple bottle, you can’t miss it. And there’s a tin of salve besides it. I would appreciate if you would feed the creatures, just please be careful.” It hurts to lift her hands and kiss her knuckles but he does it anyway, lips lingering on her soft, unblemished skin. “Thank you, Tina.”

She smiles, soft and sweet and all for him. “You always take care of me,” she murmurs while reclaiming her hand. “It’s only fair for me to take care of you.”

He can’t think of anything to say to that, so he says nothing. She’s still smiling faintly when she leaves the room after one last, long look at him. He cuts his eyes to the storm outside the window, noting distantly that he cannot see the building across the street through the snow, and waits for her to return.

*

He’s in the twilight state between wakefulness and true sleep when the aroma of freshly-brewed tea tickles his nose, pulling him back into full consciousness.

Tina is smiling, smelling faintly like animals and pungent herbs when she bends to kiss him. She sets the tray, loaded down with eggs, toast and fruit, on the small bedside table before helping him upright and passing over a plate.

Newt eats and drinks heartily, knowing the potion will make him loopy and uncomfortable later, and likely spoil his appetite.

He washes the bitter draught down with tea, grateful that she’s mastered the art of a perfect cup, and cradles her jaw. “Thank you,” he whispers against her lips before kissing her. She smiles into it before leaning back, and her hand lingers on his thigh as they finish breakfast.

“Is there anything else I can do to help?” Tina asks when they’ve pushed their plates aside.

He glances out the window, at the snow still falling thick and heavy, and tips his head back with a sigh as the room lists gently around him. He knows it’s the potion, designed to relax his stiff and aching muscles and joints, but it’s still an unsettling feeling. “I have that ointment I make,” he says in a slow, thick voice. “I’ll rub some of that on later when I’m feeling slightly less disconnected. For now, I just want to sleep.”

“Then sleep,” she murmurs while bending over him in a comforting envelope of orange blossom and hair rinse. “I have a few things to do, then I’ll come back and keep you company. Okay?”

“That sounds good,” he murmurs drowsily.

Newt surrenders to heavy eyelids, the tilt of the room temporarily blotted out by darkness, and he’s only peripherally aware of it when she leaves, wrapped in the comfortable, mostly-painless cocoon of sleep.

*

Newt comes awake to the diffused light of a bedside candle, a warm and comfortable weight at his side.

He rolls over to find Tina propped up in bed, wearing her horn-rimmed reading glasses as she slowly turns the pages in a book. The candle is lit and the windows are surprisingly dark, though a quick check of his internal clock says it’s hardly past noon.

“The storm picked up,” she answers his confused glance, and shows a small smile. “Electricity went out about an hour ago. The lines are probably down somewhere. Hope it didn’t cause a fire.” She marks her place in her book and slips between the sheets to hold him, smoothing his hair off his brow as he leans into her touch. “How are you feeling?”

“Better,” he answers truthfully.

The pain has diminished enough for him to feel capable of moving, and the room is no longer spinning around him, so he excuses himself to use the toilet and wash up. He’s grimacing when he returns to bed though, still feeling as stiff and creaky as a wizard four times his age, and sighs gratefully when he curls around her warmth.

Tina shifts so he can lay his head in her lap, inhaling her good, clean scent as she reads to him. She strokes his neck and hair while she orates. He pets her thigh and calf gently as he soaks in her words, her company, the soft flicker of the candle and the gentle _shush-shush_ sound of the falling snow.

It takes a while for him to realize that her narrations have ceased. He rolls his eyes up to look at her, only to find Tina watching him with a small, secret smile.

“You’re really out of it,” she comments in a whisper.

Newt blinks before stretching cautiously, pleased to find his muscles and joints mostly getting along. “Not so much,” he argues with a yawn. “I’m just very, very relaxed.” He shows a grin, the toothy one he knows she likes. “You have that effect on me, you know.”

She scratches between his shoulder blades in a way that typically turns him to putty in her hands. “Is _that_ what you call it?” she teases and outlines a particular large scar spread over his back. He can’t help it: her roving fingers encourage fire to spread across his skin, and he winces without meaning to, pressing his face into the curve of her thigh while swallowing hard.

Tina goes still before spreading her hand over his skin. “Did I hurt you? I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to.” She eases her hand back up to his hair, a neutral, mostly pain-free territory, and runs her fingers through his riotous curls. “Is there anything else I can do to help? Some of that salve, maybe?”

He imagines her deft touch all over his body, rubbing relief into his skin, and shivers delicately before reaching for the buttons on his pajama top. “I’d like that,” he admits in a tight voice and smiles when she laughs merrily before stretching over him to get the tin of medicine.

“Take your top off,” she instructs him and opens the lid to take a big sniff, only to recoil violently. “ _Ugh!_ What’s _in_ this!?”

Newt muffles his laughter in the pillow while stretching over the bed, putting his back to her pointedly. “It’s, um, Neem tree oil, cod liver oil, and the bile of a dragon,” he explains easily. “I’ve played around with the recipe some, and have found that adding lavender makes it smell _less_ potent, but there isn’t much to be done for it, I’m afraid.”

Tina grumbles darkly, glaring at the container, and he tosses her a smile while hugging his pillow. “I promise you, it smells much better on the skin. My body heat will bring out the lavender and lessen the more unpleasant notes.” He twitches his shoulders when she blinks and hesitantly brandishes the tin, before reaching out to press two fingers to her wrist. “I do appreciate this, Tina. More than I can say.”

“I hope the stink comes out of my hands later,” she grumbles, but her smile gives her away. She scoops out a generous dollop before spreading it over his back, causing him to close his eyes as he sags into the pillows.

“Soap will take it right out, I promise,” he drawls, not really _thinking_ about his words as she gently rubs the unguent into his back.

Tina laughs softly before focusing her efforts on some of his larger scars, making him first hold his breath, then sigh as soothing heat seeps into his skin. He relaxes beneath her ministrations, nearly purring in delight as he sags against the pillows. She laughs, sliding her hands along the length of his dorsal before spreading them over his shoulder blades, teasing him gently.

Each of the major muscles groups in his back receives diligent attention, pinched, rubbed and rolled between her talented fingers until he is little more than a loose human puddle spread over the mattress. Tina switches her focus onto each of his individual scars, slathering the larger ones until they no longer sting, gently brushing the smaller ones until he can no longer remember precisely what pain is, slicking his entire back before casting an Imperviousness charm on the sheets.

“Can you roll over?”

Newt moves slowly, a concession to his deeply relaxed state until Tina has him arranged to her liking. She places her hands on him in healing, over his chest and stomach and sides, down his arms with a focus on his elbows and wrists, until she reaches the waistband of his pajamas—where she hovers uncertainly, bottom lips caught between her teeth.

“Take ‘em off, if you’d like,” he murmurs sleepily and reaches out to squeeze her forearm. “I don’t mind, and my knees really _do_ ache.”

Tina leans in to kiss him languidly. “What about your hips, do they still hurt?”

He hums thoughtfully, lifting the body part in question as she peels his pajamas and underwear off. His groin stirs lazily, a response to cool air and loving affection more than a note of passion, and Tina squeezes his hip gently in response. Pain flares beneath her fingers, brief but terrible, and he grunts before sucking air through his teeth in a hiss. She swears colorfully while stroking the skin over his thigh.

“Sorry! Sorry, I’m sorry, I just—”

Newt cuts her off by slanting his hand over her mouth, smiling faintly as she goggles at him. “It’s _fine,_ ” he murmurs. “Just...please put some ointment on it? I know you didn’t mean to hurt me.”

She hastens to comply, straddling his thighs while scooping out a generous dollop. Tina distributes it evenly between both hips, focusing her efforts on first one side, then the other until his skin is slick and therapeutic heat sinks into his bones and muscles. He gasps with simple relief when the joints relax, and can’t quite muffle his relieved moan as she slides down his thighs to his knees, which get the same individualized attention, as do his ankles, until she kisses the arch of each foot before sliding her hands up his body to his torso.

“Did I miss any spots?” Tina asks playfully. She leans over him for a kiss, the embrace more _focused_ than the ones that had come before, and Newt nibbles her bottom lip when his groin stirs again, a bit more insistently. She presses her hands against his chest while slanting their mouths together before trailing away to kiss and nibble his jaw.

“You know,” he says conversationally, “it’s a known scientific fact that the release inherent to sex triggers the body's own natural pain-inhibitors.” Tina hums thoughtfully while moving to nibble the lobe of his ear, and he takes a moment to breathe carefully before going on, voice hoarse. “There is _one_ part of me that wouldn’t mind some, er, _attention_ if you’re feeling generous.”

Tina moves her mouth to the column of his neck, sucking, kissing and nibbling until his breath comes in short bursts, her hot mouth inspiring goosebumps. “I suppose I have to do all the work, don’t I?” she pouts prettily, and though he _knows_ she’s teasing, he can’t help but wince a little.

“I promise to make it up to you.” His sincerity causes her to fall still, her coy smile transmuting into something soft and beautiful and all for him.

“I know,” she assures him between kisses. He slips his fingers beneath the strap of her nightgown, rubbing circles into her fair skin as he kisses her throat and jaw until she shivers delicately. “Let me go wash my hands, then I’ll take care of you.”

“I look forward to it,” he murmurs, meeting her heavy-lidded eyes. She smirks and kisses him lingeringly before slipping from the room. He can hear the sound of running water from the kitchen, and he fluffs his pillows and makes himself more comfortable while waiting for her to return, anticipation gathering in his belly and making his skin tingle.

Tina allows her robe and nightgown to pool around her feet upon her return, slipping into bed while his mouth goes dry. She drapes herself over him as his arms go around her waist, touching her in feather-light brushes as she kisses him, teasing his mouth with her own before slowly working down his body. He gasps when she suckles his throat and chest, nipping gently at each cluster of freckles she comes across before sliding back up to claim his mouth.

Newt cups her breasts with his palms, sliding his thumb over her nipples until she sighs against his lips. She breaks their kiss to move over him, allowing him to guide one rosy peak into his mouth as she clutches his head before tugging gently at his hair. He tips his head back to drink in her expression before burying his face in the valley between her breasts as she guides his hand below her waist.

“Touch me,” she murmurs. He suckles her skin as he circles her core, fleeting brushes meant to tease until she squirms impatiently against him, her breath stuttering. _“Newt.”_

He hides his smile against the column of her neck as he slides his fingers through her folds, gasping when he finds her slick and warm. Tina sighs and braces herself against his shoulders when he circles her clit in angled strokes, finding it easy to ignore the low ache in his knuckles and wrist as he flicks her faster, drinking in her sighs and gasps. She reaches down to circle and stroke him and he adds his own vocalizations to the mix, wrapping his lips around her nipple to smother his sighs.

Tina shudders in his arms, and he releases her with a wet pop when she walks on her knees to line their centers up, her fingers squeezing him as he bumps her wet core. “I want you,” she says, meeting his eyes.

“You can have me,” Newt promises, and steadies her as she leans into his chest, taut heat engulfing him when she seats herself, tangling one of his hands with her own. She shudders deeply, eyes drifting closed as he presses his lips to her throat and jaw, his hands mapping her curves.

She leans back to thrusts her breasts into the air when she begins to move, rolling her hips sensuously as he slides down to lather her chest with kisses. She moves faster when he moves up to displace her teeth from her lip, swallowing her soft sighs and moans as they clutch at each other until she drops her head back. _”Oh!”_ she breathes when he sucks her throat, and tenses in his arms, freeing his hand to curl her fingernails into his skin.

Newt drags his teeth down her neck to suckle bruises into her collarbone as her breathing roughens and deepens, feeling her muscles work beneath her skin when she tightens around him. “That’s it,” he encourages as she mewls and leans back, hips rocking faster as her eyes drift closed. “Take what you need, love.”

“This is supposed to be for _you,_ ” she gasps with a small, sweaty smile. Newt spreads his hand over the small of her back, supporting her as he lifts his hips off the mattress to meet her halfway.

“I don’t care,” he gasps while teasing the inside curve of her thigh, earlier pain forgotten. “I just want to feel you, Tina.”

He moves his hand to spread across her stomach, thumb centering over her clit until she shudders again, more forcefully as her pace begins to stutter. Newt watches her face when she begins to tremble, fingernails digging deep as she gasps, “I’m gonna come,” before putting action to words, the cadence of her breathing lengthening and deepening as her stomach ripples and she clenches around him rhythmically.

Newt growls and presses his face into her throat as he flirts with the edge of his own release, enduring her pulsations until they taper off and she goes slack in his arms, her skin slick with sweat beneath his fingers. _”Fuck,”_ Tina gasps with feeling. He raises his head to find her flushed a pretty red, though whether with orgasm or the taboo word, he couldn’t say.

“I take it that was satisfactory?” he murmurs between kisses while testing the limits of his pain, finding it little more than a distant memory when he rocks his hips off the bed. Tina laughs breathlessly as she wraps her arms around his shoulders.

“Better than satisfactory,” she reassures him, “but I think it’s time for me to feel _you_ , isn’t it?”

He nods before falling still, gathering her close to flip them. He presses her into the mattress to kiss her deeply before rocking onto his haunches, urging her legs over his shoulders as the touch of his hands alternates between her hips and her breasts, his strokes long and deep as they rock together.

Tina drags her fingernails over his thighs before squeezing them in encouragement. She breathes his name, and he meets her eyes to nod before screwing his shut, wrapping his arms around her legs as he moves faster. Her hands slide to his hips when she shivers beneath him, arching her back to take him deep into herself with a sigh.

He groans while leaning forward, supporting himself on stiff arms as the back of her knees slot into the bend of his elbows. Tina’s moans fill the air between them as he snaps them together, leaning forward to kiss her before baring his teeth against her lips, growling her name. Her fingernails find a home in the small of his back when she gasps and quivers, and she’s still throbbing around him when the gathering pressure in his center releases and he groans, grinding into her before going still.

Newt peppers her chest with shaky kisses as they gasp together, her hands soothingly petting his hair as he releases her trapped legs before slumping into her, arms pulling her close. There’s a faint warning twinge from his hip when he collapses onto his side, but he ignores it in favor of stroking her back and rear until she giggles and lightly kisses his chest.

“Are you okay?” Her eyes shine at him, and though his knuckles ache distantly when he squeezes her hand, he does it anyway.

“I am absolutely _perfect,_ ” he promises and lays his head on the pillow to watch her face. “Are you well? Was that...enough for you?”

She stretches languidly, willowy limbs etched in stark relief against the darkening window before using a corner of the blanket to clean herself. She slips into her nightgown before returning to the bed, notching into his side and running her fingers through his hair as he relaxes in her arms.

“I don’t think I’ll ever get enough of you,” she finally admits and kisses his forehead. “But I know that it was enough for _today_.” She squeezes his arm before pinching his elbow gently. “How do you feel?”

“Much improved,” he says with a yawn, and shows his teeth in a grin. “Though now I’m sleepy and quite hungry.” He squints at the window, where the storm has lessened as night comes down and consults his inner clock. “It’s time to feed the creatures, and I think I should be able to manage it, with your help. If you’re willing, that is.”

Tina kisses the scar hooked across the bridge of his nose before pressing her lips to the one bisecting his eyebrow and upper lip. He sighs at the gentle contact, eyes slipping closed until she takes his hand. “I can do that if you’ll keep me company while I cook.” She pouts playfully. “I was lonely, earlier.”

Newt allows her to help him to his feet, smiling at the pleasant, sated tingle still weighing down his limbs, and stops at the door to pick up her robe and his pajamas. He helps her into it, taking a moment to kiss the side of her neck and breathe in her good, clean scent, now overlaid with the unmistakable tang of sex, before diffidently dressing and pushing open the door.

“After you, my darling,” he murmurs, and allows her to lead him into the kitchen.

*

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks, as always, to kemara for beta-reading.
> 
> These stories fill a bunch of prompts. Want one of your own? Come see me over on Tumblr [@KatieHavok](http://katiehavok.tumblr.com/) and send me a prompt or just say hi!


End file.
